And So I Know You
by Arwen Lune
Summary: An alternative ending to the 100th ep, and onward into AU land
1. And So I Know You

Note: not mine, obviously.  
Yeah, I didn't like the ending of episode 100 (5x16) very much. It's why I love fanfic - I can rework things until they work better :-)  
**Serious heavy duty spoilers for the ending of episode 5x16**. Though this mostly tells how I think that should have gone.

* * *

**And So I Know You**

**.**

"Don't do that - that is _no_ reason--"

He stepped forward, wanting it to be like he knew it could be. Giving in to a desire long held back, and kissed her. Hands on her upper arms, willing back the energy of that first kiss, years ago. The memory burned fresh in his mind; the touch of her tongue against his, the giddy energy of it all, the laughter in her voice as she left.

It took seconds to surface from the haze of his own need and realise that she was still, frozen. Breath fast and flat. Not reacting.

_Oh God. Too much, too fast. Not reading the signs, are you Booth?_

She pushed him away, and he could feel the tension in her hands, saw how rigid her back had gone.

"No - NO!"

Her touch felt like anger, but he couldn't quite define what was in her eyes. She made a warding motion, and he reluctantly stepped back, remembering too late - far too late - that he could not just will this to happen, could not will her to respond like she did in his dreams.

"Why?"

"Y-You thought you were protecting me but _you're_ the one who needs protecting"

She sounded so earnest that it stopped him in his tracks, halted his desperate plea to give things a chance. Made him think. _Bit late for that, man._

"Protecting from what?"

"From ME. I- I don't have your kind of open heart..."

Something broke in her voice, and he saw her, really saw her now. Recognised the fear in her eyes, the tears and the pain. So very, very fragile, for all her smarts and strengths. _If you would let me love you, it would never happen, I promise..._

But he couldn't promise her that, not really, not in a way that she would accept.

He reached out a tentative hand to her face. Her hands were still flat against his chest, but no longer pushing him away, just resting there now. His hand cupped her cheek, thumb wiping a tear away. She broke the eye contact for a moment.

"You can't do this," she whispered. Her voice sounded soft and brittle. "I'm not this person, you just don't want to see that," she looked in his eyes again, voice rising "I-I- I don't DO this, you're looking for something that isn't _there_..." new tears ran down her cheeks, and his heart broke in sympathy, for the pain he'd never, ever wanted to cause her.

She let out a shaky breath. "I can't do this..."

Her eyes were pleading for him to understand, and he'd never wanted anything as much as he wanted to put his arms around her right now.

_You upset her, and then you want to comfort her. Good going there._

He let his fingertips gently massage the side of her neck, and despite everything she leant into the touch, like before, like always. He opened his free arm a little, and after a moment of hesitation she stepped into his embrace, her hands going to his sides, her cheek against his chest. He let his hand slide to the back of her head, gently cradling her to him.

He took a deep, slow breath and after a moment felt her do the same, rhythms coming into sync, some of the tension leaving her spine.

_What a great idea. Nearly destroy five years of trust and friendship because a twenty-five year old __who is excited about his engagement tells me to take a gamble_, he thought wryly. A gamble that completely ignored who she was and how she would react to such an onslaught of emotions and demands.

It didn't mean she didn't return his feelings. He blinked as that thought formed. _Where did that come from?_ But it was true. Of course, it didn't mean she _did_ return his feelings, but she was still there, not only had she not left or detached herself from the situation, but she actually found comfort in his arms when he'd been the one to cause her upset in the first place.

_She would have walked through fire._

That was what Jared had said, after he'd gotten off that derelict ship just seconds before it blew up. He'd thanked his brother for putting it all on the line and potentially losing his job.

_'__Don't thank me'_, he'd said. _'She_-' head-nod to Bones, _'would have walked through fire.'_

He hadn't understood it then, not fully. He hadn't understood her reaction after he woke from the coma, either - but then, he hadn't understood much, things had been so muddled. By the time he had a vague grasp on reality, she'd flown to Guatemala. He'd discovered only later that she had been with him the entire time, right next to his bed, and that she had read her book to him. He wondered what would have happened if she hadn't.

Would he not have dreamed?

Would he not have fallen in love?

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

He felt her take a deep, shaky breath.

"For what?" her voice sounded so small and lost. He pulled her a little closer against him.

"For pushing you," he said softly.

She turned her face into his chest and he could feel her long exhale warm his skin through his shirt. Her hand went to his back, warm and steady over his spine, unexpectedly strong as she hugged him.

"I'm sorry too." It was almost too soft to hear, whispered against his chest. He grimaced, not exactly sure what she was sorry for. Not being the person she thought he wanted? Not returning his feelings?

She took a deep, hitching breath.

"For- for not being able to do this--"

He thought for a moment she would say more - perhaps, his vaguely hopeful heart suggested, the word 'yet' - but the moment passed.

_Of course, that would imply a promise she can't make_, he reminded himself. Heartbreaking as it was to see his vague, romantic idea of falling into a relationship with her fail, he knew he could trust her to never make promises she could not fulfil, and there was something comforting about that.

And she had not said she did not love him. Not even close.

In fact he was fairly sure that the unspoken words silently echoing between them were that she wanted, really wanted to accept what he was offering, but wasn't ready.

Yet.

He thought.

He hoped.

He stroked her hair and then kissed the top of her head, and something in her relaxed a little, as if that simple gesture reassured her.

"You hungry?"

She chuckled, and hugged him hard for a moment. When she looked up her eyes were still moist, but she didn't look so upset anymore.

"I could eat."

He smiled at the way she tilted her head.

"Let's go, then."

He had her hand still on her back as they walked down the stairs. The touch felt natural, like there was nothing strange about touching her, nothing strange at all.

She sped up as she took the last step, and he lost the contact, letting his arm go back to his side. She looked back reflexively.

"I'm still here."

END


	2. Child of Water

_Child of Water_

_

* * *

  
_

It won't leave her alone.

He always knew.

He always knew?

He always knew _what_?

They've settled back into a routine, where they bicker in the car and work seamlessly on cases. She's tried to give him some space, knowing he had to be hurting. But he's made it clear he doesn't want space, and there's some sort of knot in her stomach that's dissolved when she realised that even when she isn't who he wants her to be... he's still there.

This morning she drove to Deale, a town that consists almost entirely of marinas and yachting and fishing supply shops. She's there to meet an old friend, Samira Bridgewater. They worked together in Rwanda, and now that they are both at in the same state for the first time in five years, they've spent the morning catching up.

"Remember when we talked about sailing once?"

"Wasn't that when.." Brennan tried to recall the moment. Her friend had received an upsetting email and had needed to vent about it. "When your younger sister decided to drop out of university to go on some sort of sailing tour?"

The sister had been a violin player in conservatorium. While not a scientific study, Brennan had been unable to understand why anyone would be willing to quit a university study to pursue something as trivial as sailing, and neither had anyone in the Bridgewater family.

"Yeah. Turned out okay, really - she runs a sailing school here in town these days" Samira grinned. "Anyway, you mentioned back then that you'd never been sailing, and I wondered if you felt like having a go at it today."

"Well, I have been sailing a few times since," she said. "An ex had a yacht..." she saw her friend's face fall. "I'd like to though. Now?" she looked down on the slacks and blouse she'd worn, and the nice open-toed shoes. Remembered all the sailing shops along the promenade. Could imagine Booth's voice saying 'You turned down the chance? _Why_?'

"What do I need?"

* * *

Half an hour later she had a more suitable outfit, and followed Samira's car to the sailing school. A well-proportioned young man with dreadlocks was just heading out of the circular jetty of the school in a small motorboat, accompanied by a Newfoundland dog. He was towing a string of children in tiny sailing boats out into the bay.

They went inside the wooden building, finding a young woman with bright red hair behind the bar. She had a pair of mirror shades slid into her hair.

"Hey Sammy," she greeted, and the two woman hugged.

"Jeannie, this is Brennan."

"Hi, nice to meet you." she wasn't as tanned as Brennan had expected for someone who sailed for a living. Her face was full of freckles. "Have you ever sailed before?"

"Been a passenger on a yacht a few times, but apart from that, no. Always wanted to try it some time," Brennan said.

"We can do that! Sammy, could you grab some water and muesli bars from the fridge and put them in a cooler bag? Oh, and help yourself to the sunscreen," Jeannie gestured to a gallon jug of factor 45 that was stood on the bar.

"I've got a Hobie ready to take out, or I could quickly rig up a sloop."

"What's the difference?"

"A Hobie is a catamaran - fast and fun. The sloop is something I'd take my grandmother sailing on."

"A catamaran? Aren't those the ones that flip over a lot?"

"I think you might have the Extreme 40 class in mind. It's not usually that spectacular, and I've got this one rigged for lessons, not racing. With the swell today it should be a safe enough ride."

"Sounds fun," Brennan nodded. If she was going to sail, a grandmother ride wasn't what she was after.

"If you drench us, I _will_ kill you, little sis," Samira said.

"Would I do that?"

Brennan decided that that couldn't really be a question, since it was clear from Samira's reaction that she had in fact done that in the past.

"Here, put these on," Jeannie tossed them each a gas-capsule lifevest.

"I'm an excellent swimmer," Brennan said, not seeing the need for the vest.

"So am I," she declared cheerfully, shrugging into her own.

Not seeing a way to argue that, she put on the vest.

* * *

They boarded the boat - it was strange to stand on the firm netting and see the water underneath. Brennan settled down, cross legged.

Samira stashed the cooler bag in a hatch on one of the floaters while Jeannie untied the mooring lines. Brennan thought they were going to float off, but in one practised motion the younger woman stepped aboard while she pushed off.

"Your sense of balance is very well developed. Does that ever go wrong?"

"Sure," she flashed a grin, settling down on the back end of one of the floaters. "Right, I'm going to start single-handing, and when we're on a nice line out there I can explain more - do you want to learn, or just be along for the ride?"

That caught her by surprise. Did she want to learn? Sweets had once said that she was very good at being good at things, and because of that, reluctant to learn new skills. She'd had to admit to herself that there was truth in that; if she had to learn new skills, she usually spent time beforehand reading and researching. Trying to by-pass the awkward uncertain stage as soon as possible.

While she thought about it, Jeannie and Samira set both sails, moving with easy strength and balance. As they came out into the open water the wind filled the sails, and the boat started to heel and pick up speed.

"Yes, I'd like to learn."

* * *

"All right, here we go. _Let go_-," Brennan let the pressure go off the rope she was holding, and shuffled over to the other side of the trampoline, "-and _haul_."

As the boom swung overhead she grabbed the opposite rope and pulled it tight. The foresail snapped full of wind, and it felt as if the boat leapt forward. Jeannie moved to the new high side and nodded approvingly.

"Nice! This was a slow tack, and when it happens faster there's sort of a rhythm to it - you start moving to the opposite side while the boom goes, so you're in the middle when the balance is in the middle. But you'll see that when we do it later on. Are you feeling good about going outside the breakers?"

Brennan nodded, eager to do more sailing. Objectively she knew that the boat was not going that fast, but being so close to the water made it feel considerably faster, and she found it quite exciting.

"I'll try to keep the splashing to a minimum, but if you have something that needs to stay dry, you might want to stick it in the locker."

* * *

"Oh this is _wonderful_! Much more exciting than the yacht."

"Ready to go a little faster?"

She nodded empathically.

Jeannie grinned wide.

"All right - we're going close-hauled - we'll have the wind coming from there," she indicated a 30-degree angle on the sailing direction with her hand. "That means we'll be going against the waves, so there might be some spray."

"That's an understatement," Samira added dryly.

"Ready? Let go - and _haul_."

She'd done it often enough now to feel what the boat was doing, pick the right moment to move her weight across while the boat's balance was changing. Jeannie walked across the back of the trampoline, ducking under the boom as it passed over, and sat down on the windward side.

Almost immediately the speed picked up and the occasional wave sent droplets showering over them. It felt like they were going at least twice as fast as before, though she decided that partly had to be the feeling of going into the wind.

The glider they were now sitting on lifted up out of the water.

"Nice! Okay, if you could both sit as high as possible we'll keep her from heeling too much."

Samira showed her where there were straps to hold on to while they sat on the glider.

"During the races people wear harnesses with a line that's attached to the top of the mast – then they stand up on the side and lean their weight back," she said, raising her voice over the rush of the wind.

"That sounds-" the paused, looking for the right word?

"Crazy?" Samira suggested.

"Fun!" Jeannie grinned.

"Actually, both," Brennan finished.

* * *

She heard a faint sound and turned to Jeannie.

"I think I hear my phone!"

The younger woman shrugged one shoulder.

"It's my partner." Booth had a separate ringtone assigned to him. She'd replaced Angela's initial choice - Donna Summers' 'Hot Stuff' - with the intro of Foreigner's Hot Blooded. It was somewhat less unprofessional and always made her smile. "I really need to get this."

"Okay!"

Within seconds the rushing of the wind stopped and the boat glided calmly and then came to lie still, the trampoline once again even.

"I've laid us into the wind - go ahead and answer now."

"Hey Booth, everything okay?"

"You sound out of breath," he sounded amused. "Doing anything fun?"

"Sailing! I'm on a catamaran." She could hear the smile in her own voice.

"Aww crap, don't want to pull you out of something fun. Nevermi--"

"Booth, just tell me?"

"You're in Deale, right? We've got a case, bodyparts washed up a little further down the coast, but if you can't..."

"A case? Okay. How far are you out?"

"I'm about 20 minutes from Deale now."

She blocked the phone with her hand.

"If I wanted to get back to shore as soon as possible, how long would that take?"

Jeannie looked at the wind direction, the distance to the shore, the waves.

"That there is Cedarhurst. It'll be half an hour, give or take. Maybe a little faster if you don't mind some serious heeling."

"Booth? If you go to the Weatherbridge sailing school, we will be there in about half an hour."

"Works for me. Sorry about this."

Samira was rummaging in one of the lockers and attaching straps at various points on the boat. Jeannie attached some extra lines Brennan didn't know the use for.

She put her phone back into the locker.

"Can I help? Should I stay out of the way?"

"Sammy will handle the jib, but I might need you to help handle the main - I'll need to keep one hand on the tiller. If you sit here," she indicated a spot next to herself, fairly far back on the glider, "once we're off and running, that would help."

The sisters nodded at one another, and Jeannie pushed the tiller over to bring the nose out of the wind. Within moments what had seemed peaceful and calm was once again a rush of wind and water. As the boat turned the wind started to push it sideward, and the glider rose out of the water. Jeannie indicated for Brennan to sit down, and with all three of them sitting on the highest point they just kept balance.

Brennan heard herself laugh when the other glider disappeared partly under water. Next to her Jeannie shoved her feet under a strap that had been rigged up earlier and leaned precariously far back over the water, using a loop of rope to keep her balance.

"That is _very_ bad for your back!" Brennan said.

"So is cartwheeling the whole damn boat!" Jeannie called back.

"_Cartwheeling_?"

"JEANNIE!" Samira called disapprovingly. "No details, and NO cartwheeling!"

"Ease off a bit!"

Samira, who had taken over the jib sheet duty, eased off the little and the boat settled more comfortably, soaring through the water - no, _over_ the water, in a way nothing without an engine should be able to do.

Brennan turned her face into the wind, grinning fiercely. There was something very primal about this, and she found she was enjoying it immensely. The only thing that could have improved it was to know exactly how the sailing worked, so that she felt less like a passenger, a parcel to be delivered to Booth.

* * *

He was waiting for her.

It hadn't taken long to realise that. She'd backed off, not wanting to torment him with all the casual intimacies they'd developed if it caused him pain.

He'd been hurt at her withdrawing, and when she'd explained her reason, told her to stop it.

Confusing man.

She'd often thought back to that kiss, years ago. When everything was as simple as kissing an attractive FBI agent that she wanted to take to bed. She liked him, she was attracted to him, and it had been that simple. But despite the haze of lust and attraction she'd recognised that her decision-making capacities had been impaired by the tequila, and had left on her own, fully intending to reopen the subject when sober.

Except by the time she was sober the next day she'd remembered the reason that she'd considered sleeping with him in the first place - he'd _fired_ her. Fired the Jeffersonian. Denied her the chance to work on one of the most exciting cases she'd seen in a long time. And not only had he fired her, he'd done it in a sneaky, underhanded way by getting her drunk first. By the time she'd seen him again she'd built up a good head of steam to tell him exactly what she thought of that.

What if she had not gone home? What if she'd let her drunken libido overrule her common sense? She'd often wondered that since then.

_We'd have had great fun that night and maybe for a couple of weeks. And then it would have ended, like it always ends, and he would never have contacted me for the Cleo Eller case.__ And certainly not have gone for a long term partnership._

They hadn't parted that first case on good terms, but at least it had been a simple disagreement, not a fling turned sour. They hadn't spend enough time together for him to really get to know her, or things would have gone differently. Uglier.

How far they'd come since then. She never could have dreamed back then that she would once consider him her best friend. The person she called to share her ups and downs. The person who was always there when things got tough.

He'd said he loved her. And she'd felt like she was experiencing cardiac arrhythmia.

_"__-in a professional, atta-girl kind of way." _He'd added.

Relief and disappointment made a strange mixture. She'd managed to cover with a flippant reply, and he'd not brought it up again.

Until that evening after they'd told Sweets about the first case, a month ago now. He'd not brought up love, but he seemed to want to try a relationship between them, and she'd felt like she was unable to get enough oxygen. He was willing to risk the best friendship and partnership she'd ever had for a temporary romantic involvement and he saw nothing strange about that.

Was she really so abnormal to not be willing to take the risk?

_I never felt broken before I met you_

Sometimes she wished that his presence did not show her deficiencies in such sharp relief. Then he somehow accepted and absolved in a single look, made her feel like her shortcomings were simply part of a whole that he appreciated. Made her feel like she belonged.

He was waiting for her, there on the quayside. Hand up to shield his eyes against the bright sun. She thought he might be grinning, but it was too far off to tell.

"Okay, ready to jibe!" Jeannie called. "The boom is going to come over hard, so can you sit over here-" she indicated a spot in the middle of the trampoline, "and just stay low for a moment?"

She scooted to the new position. The boat shifted balance as the younger woman adjusted the main sail, both gliders in the water now, and a moment later the boom passed overhead, sail filling with a thump, tilting the boat the other way. She automatically crawled up to the new windward glider.

The new tack brought them closer to where Booth was waiting, on a diagonal line toward the entrance of the bay. He was following them with his eyes, and she wanted to wave, but needed both hands to hold on. She shot him a brilliant smile instead

As they passed through the gap Booth got into his car, presumably to drive to the sailing school.

* * *

"Look at you, Bones!" he grinned. "All windswept. Had a good day, I take it?"

"It was--" she grasped around for words and came up short. "I enjoyed it very much. Have you ever sailed on a catamaran?"

"Nah. I sailed in a dinghy a few times as a kid, but never catamarans. It looked like fun."

"The adrenaline rush was very pleasurable." she checked her phone. No messages from the lab. Yet. "I intend to take lessons."

He was smiling, but there was something in his eyes, some shadow she could not define, and it brought her back to earth. Reminded her of what was between them, the gulf she had unwillingly created by not agreeing to his proposal to try a relationship.

"I--I find this very difficult," she said, before she could change her mind. He gave her a questioning glance before turning his attention back to the road.

"Find what difficult?" he finally prompted.

"It seems that there is no path I can chose that does not hurt you, and... and I find that very frustrating. I'd do anything to spare you pain, if I only knew how."

He closed his eyes for a brief moment, and he seemed to be smiling, but not out of happiness.

_Exactly what I meant. Is there nothing I can do without hurting him?_

He reached out to take her hand for a moment, his eyes never leaving the road. Warm, gentle pressure on her fingers. A simple touch should not be able to abate her anxiety, but it did. Neither of them seemed to know the right words.

"What brought this on?" he said, a few miles later.

"I wanted to ask-" she took a deep breath, not sure if this was a good idea but unwilling to drop the idea without mentioning it. "-if you would come with me to have the lessons. But if that would be... you don't have to-"

"You want me to come along to your sailing lessons?"

"I'd like to take the lessons together. If you... if you're interested in learning to.. to sail catamaran."

"You want to take sailing lessons together?"

If only she could make sense of his tone. Surprised? Incredulous? Dismayed?

"It would fit easily on the boat, and Jeannie is a skilled instructor. And... I think I'd enjoy sharing it with you."

He was looking forward, so she couldn't read much from his face. Usually she liked talking to him in the car, his attention on driving making it less intense, easier to talk about personal subjects because it made her less self-conscious. Today, however, it just made her restless.

"I'd really like that."

* * *

I was planning for _And So I Know You_ to be a one-shot but it kept bugging me, and since I'm not happy with the current direction of the series I thought I'd let it spin off merrily the way I would like to see. There'll be a counterpart chapter to this one, and maybe more, depending on how tenacious the plotbunnies are.


	3. Child of Air

_Child of Air_

_

* * *

_

_"That must have been painful."_

Booth sighed, mulling over his conversation with Gordon Wyatt the evening before. He'd turned to his friend and former therapist for an outside view on the situation with Bones.

The relationship with Sweets was still... not back where it had been. The FBI psychologist had apologised - offered his resignation in fact, for his inappropriate conduct. He should never have suggested that Booth bring the situation to a head, let alone put pressure. Booth had acknowledged that, accepted the apology, and dismissed the idea of resignation. Both he and Bones had resumed their sessions with Sweets, but things were different now, cooler, more detached. Sweets was doing his best not to venture near the subject of a relationship outside the work context.

Gordon Gordon had no such compulsions.

_"I have to question your approach, however," he'd continued. "Doctor Brennan is such a cautious, empirical person that I shouldn't have thought she'd begin **any** relationship without having considered the matter extensively. Let alone a relationship that carries such great __emotional risk to her. In fact, if she had swooned into your arms in a manner reminiscent of a soap opera, I would have felt __**deeply**__ concerned for her mental wellbeing."_

He hadn't known what to say to that last night, but now it made him grin wryly. He'd been so fired up by the memory of that first meeting and Sweet's insistence, that he hadn't really thought of what he was expecting to happen.

_"I have something for you to consider. Are you sure that your sudden escalation of your relationship with Doctor Brennan does not stem from an impatience to return to your dream? You were happily together with her then, so __you know what it could be like, is it not? But the person in your dream was not Doctor Brennan, she was your image of her. The real Doctor Brennan has never been in a relationship with you, and it is entirely possible that she has only recently even considered it for the first time."_

_"And dismissed it",_ he'd said.

_"Ah! But not, from your account, because she __does not love you, but rather that she considers the risks too great. For you it might feel like you would be returning to the blissful state you experienced in your dream, but for her it is completely new ground, and could potentially destroy something she values very highly - her friendship with you! Small wonder that her first reflex was to preserve the current situation. You tried to pull her off a cliff, and she dug in her heels!"_

_"You're saying that I was impatient?"_

_"I am saying, my dear Booth, that now you've planted the suggestion in her mind, you could do worse than to give her space to analyse the situation__, consider it from all angles like she would with human remains. Meanwhile to disprove her fears by continuing to be her friend even when she is unable to give you what you want."_

That wasn't easy, wasn't going to be easy - to hide his disappointment and be satisfied with friendship when he'd seen how much more they could be. But he'd appreciated Gordon's input; it did feel a little like a relationship with Bones would be getting _back_ together, but it wasn't like that to her. Which meant he had to be chapters ahead of her. He could just hope that they were reading the same story, and she would catch up.

It was so hard to understand for him. She had said, in words and actions, that she was willing to do anything for him, including risking her life. How could she not be willing to risk her happiness for him?

He turned the air in the car up a little higher, glad it was at least a Saturday. He'd been called in from his day off and hadn't had time to put on his FBI suit. At least, that was his excuse for wearing lightweight jeans and a shortsleeved cotton shirt on a work occasion. It was a sweltering enough day that the thought of his suit jacket alone made him sweat.

Bodyparts had washed up in one of the little bayside towns, and he was going to collect Bones from Deale, where she was having coffee with a colleague.

Actually, he had better call her rather than turn up and drag her away.

About twenty minutes later he parked next to the wavebreaker that shielded the fishertown from the bay. He'd gone to the sailing school first, but the dreadlocked surfer type that had been busy prying a group of damp children out of lifevests had said the boat hadn't returned yet, and then pointed him to the point where he should be able to see them approach.

Here at the coast there was a breeze, and it was pleasant rather than sweltering. A nice day to sail, from the looks of it. Bones had sounded like she was having fun.

Since when did Bones sail? He knew she did scubadiving, or used to - the last few years it had seemed like all her holidays were spent working in mass graves. Sailing almost seemed too physical for her.

He followed the dots that were coming roughly from the North and saw one come closer at a fair speed. A catamaran. That had to be her. It approached to show a diagonal line, the sail at a steep angle, and figures sitting on the windward glider.

His breath caught as a gust of wind pushed the sail sideward just that much further, but it steadied, righted back to its balance again. He saw sunlight glint off sunglasses, a concentrating look on the blonde that was in front, a wide grin on the woman behind her.

Bones. That was her. A red-haired woman behind her leaned out further over the water, compensating for another gust of wind, but he could not keep his eyes off Bones, her hair pulled back in a simple tail, her face turned into the wind.

If she stopped thinking about _what_ she was.. doctor, scientist, author... if she stopped being so self-conscious... was this _who_ she was?

He watched as the women brought the catamaran about, working as a well-trained team as the boom came over hard and the boat heeled the other way, and aimed it for the entrance of the Deale bay. He got back into the car to head for the sailing school.

An enormous dog - almost a bear - seeming even larger because of the huge amount of brown hair, greeted him when he arrived there. It challenged him with a single deep bark, and then waited for his approach. Booth halted at a few metres distance, offering his hand while turning to the side a little, and after a moment the dog came up to greet him, giving his hand a slobbery lick.

"Thanks, buddy," he said, looking around for something to wipe his hand on.

Just then he saw the sail of the catamaran move past, and he walked to the back of the school building, to the floating jetty. The dog galloped ahead of him, big plume of a tail held high.

"Teff, no - NO!"

There was a big splash, and Booth arrived at the end of the jettyto see that the dog had jumped in and was now swimming toward the catamaran. All three women, who were lowering the sail, had been splashed by its enthusiastic launch into the water.

"What's he doing?" Bones said, reaching out to pet the swimming dog's wet head. He remembered how much she liked dogs, and smiled.

"He sometimes gets to pull the boats into the dock," the red-haired woman said. "Though usually he waits until asked to. Oh go ahead, toss him the towing line. Beats paddling the last bit."

"Hey Booth," Bones saw him, and shot him a brilliant, relaxed smile.

The dog grabbed the line in his mouth and pulled the boat the last fifteen metres into the circular jetty. The two women he didn't know each put a loop around the mooring blocks, pulling the boat against the jetty, and he offered them all a hand as they stepped off.

Bones introduced the sisters, and the three of them chatted briefly about a repeat. Meanwhile the dog had climbed up a ramp that seemed to have designed for this purpose, and came trotting back in their direction.

"Teff, shake!" Jeannie called, and the dog did, coating an entire section of the jetty with water and dog hair.

"Handy command," Bones laughed.

"Definitely a life saver!"

* * *

"You riding with me? I can bring you up to speed on the situation on the way."

She looked at her own car, then at him, and started walking to his car.

"You said it was fairly close, right? You can drop me back here after for my car."

He marvelled at her loose-limbed relaxation as he pulled out of the parking lot.

"Looked like you were having fun."

"The adrenaline rush was very pleasurable. I intend to take lessons."

He almost heard the moment that Doctor Temperance Brennan returned to her mind, the moment that the weight of her persona returned to her shoulders - and her vocabulary. It made him feel a little sad.

"I--I find this very difficult," she said a few moments later. He glanced at her face, unsure what made her say that.

"Find what difficult?" he asked.

"It seems that there is no path I can chose that does not hurt you, and... and I find that very frustrating. I'd do anything to spare you pain, if I only knew how."

He closed his eyes a brief moment. _God, I love you._

How did they get so messed up? He loved her but he couldn't tell her, afraid to scare her off, and she cared but was afraid to show it, afraid to hurt him.

He understood now what Sweets had hinted at now and then. That she believed that her smarts and her looks were things that compensated for who she was. And that without them, or when someone got close enough, the unlovable person underneath would be revealed.

And he couldn't fix that.

No matter how much he wanted to, no matter how much he had already tried, she would either learn that the fear was baseless... or she wouldn't.

_What could I possibly find out about you that would make me leave?__ I see you. I know you. I __**grok**__ you._

She would almost certainly be surprised he'd read Heinlein, so he was saving that reference for a rainy day.

He had a thousand words all clamouring in his throat, but none of them would fix this, none of them would make it right. Instead he reached out to take her hand where it was worrying at the strap of her bag, and just held it for a while. Making the connection. After a moment she let out a deep breath.

"What brought this on?'

"I wanted to ask-" she took a deep breath. Clearly this wasn't easy. "-if you would come with me to have the lessons. But if that would be... you don't have to-"

_God, p__lease stop giving me ways out. I don't want them._

"You want me to come along to your sailing lessons?"

"I'd like to take the lessons together. If you... if you're interested in learning to.. to sail catamaran."

She trailed off toward the end. His heart broke a little at the uncertainty in her voice.

"You want to take sailing lessons together?"

She was asking him to be present while she learned something new? Something she would not have an intellectual advantage on? She was still talking, justifying it.

"It would fit easily on the boat, and Jeannie is a skilled instructor. And... I think I'd enjoy sharing it with you."

_Play it cool now._What he really wanted to do was hold her very, very tightly.

"I'd really like that."

_You have no idea how much._

_

* * *

_

_Ha! I think this story.. or rather series of shorties.. is wanting to connect itself to the Whatever Our Souls Are Made Of arc. I'll see where it leads to and how far I get...  
_


	4. Circling Birds

**Circling Birds**

It was another scorcher day, the fifth in a row. Result of the high-pressure area that was currently baking DC in its trembling, still-air heat. Even on the coast there was no wind to speak of, but their first lesson hadn't been cancelled. Booth wondered what sort of sailing things they could possibly do without wind, but wasn't about to suggest cancelling on spending a whole day with Bones outside of work.

"You're very quiet," he said, glancing away from the road to look at her.

"I'm just... thinking about my writing." she sounded a bit... embarrassed?

He'd never really asked about how her writing worked, about how that very analytical genius brain could contain characters that came to life so vividly on paper. He now knew that Angela was responsible for some of the more relationshippy scenes in the books, but they were still Brennan's characters, complete people with hopes and fears and dreams. Often they betrayed powers of observation he would not have expected from her had he not read her books. Angela might help, but Bones brought them to life.

"What part of it?" it was silent for the space of several long breaths. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to..."

"It's okay, I just... don't really know how to explain." That piqued his interest. She always knew how to explain.

"I had this storyline all plotted out, but one of the characters is... the story doesn't... it seems to want to take another direction than I intended," she finished, sounding both annoyed and baffled. "And that makes no _sense_. It's fictional. It's not alive. The characters exist only in my mind, how could they have desires and opinions beyond what I gave them?"

"But is he still behaving like himself? Like the character as you know him?"

She thought about it for a moment. Booth was fascinated. He'd never heard about this part of writing a book before. Usually when she was in the middle of a story, she locked herself into her office or apartment for whatever hours she wasn't working, and didn't emerge until it was mostly finished. He felt a little honoured that not only was she breaking her self-imposed exile to go sailing with him, but she was telling him about a work in progress, something that wasn't perfect yet.

"The character is behaving within the parameters I set, yes..."

"What would happen if you just... went with it?"

"I.... I don't know." she puzzled for a moment. "I _always_ know. I plot, and I foreshadow, and things happen the way I plan them."

He remembered her first book, and recognised what she said. It had been good, suspenseful and interesting, and thinking back, it seemed like the characters were only present because the plot could not happen by itself. Her later book had gradually contained more character development, with things happening because the characters made them happen.

"Wouldn't it be pretty interesting to see where you end up if you let this character lead you where he wants to go?"

She gave him a look he couldn't quite place, and he focused back on traffic, not wanting her to see his widening eyes.

_Wait a minute. Are we still talking about her book here?_

Her face was turned toward her window now, and he puzzled over her reaction. Was he this character? Was she talking about how he could derail her careful planning?

_No, this is Bones. She doesn't DO that. _

"I mean, you already know what happens the way you plotted it out. If this version doesn't go anywhere you could always go back and write it according to your plan."

"I guess it just makes me feel.. out of control, if I can't even make my own characters behave the way I want."

_She's insecure about her writing?_ Why didn't that surprise him as much as he thought it would?

"Wouldn't it be pretty interesting if the characters come to life so much that they direct the story?"

"Hmm."

He could tell she wasn't convinced, but she seemed to at least consider his idea, and that was more than he'd have expected.

"Hey, can I read it even if it doesn't end up in your book?"

She startled, and he was surprised to realise that while she clearly didn't like that idea, she did not immediately refuse.

"Does nobody ever get to read parts of your work before it's finished?"

"Angela does," she said. "But.. not really, no. It's a finished draft when I send it to the editor."

"Why not?"

"It's very..." she made a frustrated gesture. "...personal."

"But eventually everybody can buy it and read it."

"The final version, yes. The drafts are... look, I can't really explain it. You know when we're talking to Sweets and he suddenly says 'that's very interesting'?"

"Yeah?"

"The idea someone would read all these rough versions and tryouts feels like that."

"Fair enough," he conceded. Sweet's _'Aha! you just revealed something about yourself_' thing could be pretty uncomfortable.

"You know, someday someone is going to put those all together and publish them as your great unseen works."

"I better put something in my will about that," she nodded. "I hate those kind of books. If it's unpublished, the writer usually left it that way for a reason."

"Do you ever delete work?"

"No - well, hardly ever," she corrected herself.

He wasn't sure why, but that got his attention.

"What sort of thing do you delete?"

"Um... things that.. that I need to write down to get them out of my head."

"What do you mean?" He thought he knew what she meant, but he wanted to hear her say it.

"Sometimes I get... stuck, I guess, on part of a story, and it just keeps replaying over and over in my head. Like secondary plots or alternative universes or background ideas for characters or... just other things that aren't relevant for the story."

_Alternative universes..._

"And then you write them down, and it helps?"

She nodded.

"And then you delete them?"

"Not always - I have a recycle folder. Sometimes scraps of story end up somewhere else. But sometimes it.." He could hear her withdraw, make distance. "Sometimes it just can't ever happen, and I delete it."

_Oh Bones. Is that the story I dreamed? Did you write it, because it wouldn't leave you alone, and then delete it because you think you can never have that?_

"For what it's worth..." he trailed to a halt, realising that he was walking a fine line here, dangerously close to things that would have her running for the hills. From what people had told him, he had dreamed about the story she'd read to him while he was in a coma. In the dream he and her had been in love, married. Happy. If he brought that up, implied that it was about anything but fictional characters... "I think if your characters start to live lives of their own, that means you are a really good writer."

"I am a good writer. I was in the bestseller's list." Objective Brennan, back on safe ground. It made him smile inwardly.

"Come on, you and I both know that lots of sales don't make a good book - just look at Twilight."

"Nothing really seems to _happen_ for most of the book, yet it's oddly compelling," she nodded.

"Wait, you've _read_ Twilight?" _Will you ever stop surprising me?_

"Russ asked if I thought it was suitable reading for the girls, so I read it to be able to answer him."

"And what did you think?"

"Poor prose and pacing, but obviously well-tailored for its target group - a female protagonist who doesn't seem to have any character at all, optimally suited for self-insertion by teenage female readers. I told Russ that I'm concerned about the stereotypical gender roles, the borderline abusive relationship between the main characters. It troubles me that young girls read about co-dependency and label it love. I'm not an expert on healthy adult relationships, but that doesn't seem a good model for young girls to base themselves on."

He was reflecting on the irony of Bones talking about love and healthy adult relationships when she turned to him with a grin.

"So why have _you_ read it?"

"It was uh, research for a case I assisted on last month," he said quickly, trying to quell the embarrassment. "There was a stalker case and I had to read a load of fansites. Some of it was so disturbing that I went and read a couple of chapters to figure out where all that obsession was based on."

"And?"

"Well, the book is essentially about how being a creepy sparkly stalker is romantic, so that kind of made the case make more sense," he shrugged.

"Were the fansites... was it bad?"

"All I can say is.." he turned the car into the parking lot of the sailing school, "I pray to God that by the time Parker is the age to start dating, those books will have blown over."

* * *

"We're lucky it's hot today, because you're going to learn how to right a tipped cat," Jeannie said when they'd all changed into wetsuits. Brennan observed that she was moderately overweight, but nonetheless had a curvature to her figure that was pleasing to the eye. Booth in a wetsuit – she had to hope he hadn't spotted her look. He was a pleasingly formed man, in all aspects. He also didn't seem too keen on what their instructor was saying.

"That's how we start?"

"Seems better than taking you guys out onto the lake, have the inevitable capsize, and not know what to do," Jeannie shrugged.

"I didn't realise we would definitely capsize," Booth said. "That's normal?"

"Oh yeah. Tippy things, catamarans. That's what makes it fun!"

"If you say so." He didn't sound all that convinced.

"It really is a lot of fun, Booth. It's what I... what I imagine it would feel like to fly."

He heard the earnest tone, saw the almost undetectable hint of pleading in her eyes. She could probably ask him to join her ice swimming in the arctic in this tone and he'd say yes.

He couldn't imagine refusing to do something that was important to her if she wanted to share it with him. She was inviting him into her life, and she would not have to ask twice.

"Okay, no problem," he grinned. "Just wasn't expecting that."

The brilliant smile she shot him was a reward all in itself.

"All my lesson boats have a floater at the top of the mast – that's to stop it from turtling – turning over completely. If it's just tipped you can right it without help. On your own if you're handy, or with two people fairly easily."

A small catamaran had ropes attached to the floaters and the tip of the mast, and they used those to pull it over onto its side, so it floated flat in the middle of the circular jetty of the school.

Jeannie went into the water, which was about chest high, and swam to the base of the boat with quick strokes. Brennan and Booth walked around on the jetty to keep her in sight.

"Looks kind of... sad, like that," Booth observed. "On its side."

"Booth, are you anthropomorphising the boat?"

"Hey, boats have names. Ask any sailor, most of them talk like boats have some sort of soul," he defended.

"Jeannie, does this boat have a name?" Brennan called across the water.

"Hobie Three!" she called over her shoulder.

"See? No name. No soul."

"--My racing cat has a name though - Kitty - and so do the other private boats... the lesson boats just get numbers."

"Do you believe boats have souls?"

"I like to think so," she jumped up out of the water and climbed on top of the bottom glider. "The big sailing ships I've sailed on... especially the squareriggers... it really does feel like a living, breathing entity. Maybe that's just what sailors like to think because it's a comforting idea?"

She stood up on the glider and reached out to grab a line that was connected to the top of the mast.

"Right! To get her back to her feet, this here is the righting line--"

"See? _Her_," Booth hissed.

"But it makes no _sense_ - it's an object!"

"Shh."

"--weight in it. If you're in deep water, do this together. If you're in undeep water like here, and you are with two people, one of you can help lift the masthead out of the water to get the balance-- _shifting_." That last word was a grunt, as she leaned back to about 45 degrees, putting her full weight into the line.

It seemed to take a long moment for anything to happen, but then the masthead slowly lifted, and the sail followed, water streaming off. Jeannie climbed up the rope with her hands, keeping herself completely out of the water; presumably to use her full weight.

"There it goes... whoa!" Brennan said as the boat reached its tipping point and thundered down onto both gliders. Jeannie had jumped out of the way and was holding on to the netting from below, stopping the boat from tipping over the other way.

"Right!" she called, "There's a few more things to watch for when you're out in the open - the wind can help you if the angle is right, but make this impossible if it's wrong. In some cases you may have to turn the whole damn thing so you can get some wind under the sail to lift it for you. But we'll get to that - let's just first get the hang of this. You wanna have a go?"

Booth glanced at his partner, who had a determined look on her face he could spot even with the sunglasses she had on. She nodded, and they went into the water. She by kneeling down to let herself slide into the water... he by simply stepping off the jetty, splashing her in the process.

"Oops. Sorry there, Bones."

"No problem, Booth," she grinned. Her tone told him to expect payback at some point.

He could hardly wait.

* * *

**There! a little fragmented, but this is as far as this chapter will go... Oh, and the titling for this story/series comes from a Sandburg poem called 'Flying Fish', if you're wondering why it doesn't seem to make sense. There's a prominent Sandburg line in the end scene of The Parts in the Sum of the Whole so it seemed appropriate for my little AU/spinoff. **


	5. Monotonous Sea

**Note: I wrote these two chapters at the start of the summer, when I was still invested in the series and unhappy with what the writers were doing. I've not watched it since, and I've moved on to a different fandom, but I had this and I liked it so I wanted to put it out here. **

**

* * *

**

**Monotonous Sea**

This, THIS was it. This was amazing. Soaring over the water, balance just so, feeling the pull of the sails on the line he was holding. Occasional drops of water in his face, bouncing off his shades. Didn't matter. Nothing mattered but this, nothing mattered but flying with her.

She was sitting half behind him, holding the tiller, and he could feel the same manic rush of joy in her, could feel it flow and crackle between them. Her high ponytail whipped in the wind, and she was laughing softly. It made his heart overflow. So completely open and unguarded and _here_ - and she'd wanted to share it with him.

"We've never gone this fast!" she called. "Makes me want to raise my voice!"

"Do it!" he beamed at her. "YEEAAAHHH!"

Her unrestrained laughter was like some euphoria-inducing drugs to his system.

"Whoo!" she called out, and then, getting into it, "WHOOHOOOO!"

He felt like his grin might split his face.

There was laughter behind them, where he knew Jeannie was keeping pace with them in the RIB boat, staying a good ten metres behind them and off to the windward side to make sure they would not be troubled by her bow waves. The dog was standing in the nose of the boat like a big hairy figurehead, and was barking along when Bones whooped again.

It was only the second time that their teacher had accompanied them in the RIB rather than on the catamaran itself. The first time they had stayed inside the breakers, close water, safe to play around in.

This morning she had slung a pack with water and energy bars into the RIB, grinned as the dog had leapt in and taken up station in the nose of the boat, and towed them out into the open. Time to stretch their legs on the bay.

"...off!" he suddenly heard. Jeannie. "EASE OFF!"

He moved his hand to slap the rope out of its clamp, but the next moment the boat rose up violently under him, raising him high into the air and then the water-

above-

below-

-meeting him with painful impact-

...and closing over his head.

He rose to the surface like a cork, the buoyancy vest immediately shoving him toward the surface, and he spent long seconds spluttering, fighting for breath, and reeling, events catching up with him.

_What the hell __just happened?_

The catamaran was on its side, sail in the water, looking for all the world like a shot swan. The RIB was on the other side, the dog no longer inside. He followed Jeannie's gaze as she carefully manoeuvred the boat and saw the dog in the water, next to-

"BONES!"

She was floating face-down in the water. The buoyancy vests they wore helped a person stay at the surface, but weren't enough to keep the head of an unconscious person above water; proper life vests were far too bulky to sail in. He started swimming in her direction.

"Booth! Don't go under the sail, you'll get trapped in the lines!" Jeannie called, and he gritted his teeth, his entire being screaming out to ignore her and go to Bones NOW. But reason took over - the last thing anyone needed right now was another victim.

As he swam around with quick strokes he watched the dog nudge her over onto her back, bringing her face out of the water. By the time he'd arrived, Jeannie had inched the RIB up next to her, and grabbed the front of her vest.

"Bones!" he took her in his arms, head propped up against his shoulder. Jeannie let go. Feeling at her throat for a pulse, her head lolled alarmingly for a moment, but then she made an startling little 'huuuuh' sound, and began to splutter and cough.

"I've got you. I've got you..."

Jeannie laid a wide-mazed net over the side of the RIB. It was attached inside the boat, and the other end of the square had a wooden pole attached diagonally to the boat.

"Can you float her over the netting?" she directed. "Then I can get her inboard."

He only half listened, stroking his partner's pale face, saying her name over and over. After an excruciatingly long moment, her eyes fluttered open.

"...ooth?"

His heart contracted painfully, and he forced a deep breath into his lungs.

"..what happened...?"

He looked up at Jeannie. Damned if he knew.

"Pitchpole," she said curtly. "From what I could see she caught a glancing blow from the boom - get her into the netting?"

He did as she said this time, and she grabbed the pole on the outboard side of his coughing partner, like a hammock, and then started pulling it upward, slowly rolling her onto the side of the boat. He supported her head until she was out of the water, and then went to the other side of the boat to hang off the side, counterbalancing.

To his bemusement the dog paddled toward him and tugged on the webbing loop on the back of his vest.

"Um - Teff? What's he doing?"

Jeannie spared a glance over her shoulder.

"He's trained to collect all the people in the water and bring them to the boat," she said, focusing on very gently sliding Bones into the boat and putting her into the recovery position. "Teff, knock it off."

"I'm okay... I'm okay," he heard Brennan say, weak tone belying her words.

"Sure," Jeannie said. "So we'll just go to shore so my boyfriend can confirm that."

"Your boyfriend? She needs to go to the ER." He wasn't about to take a risk with that super-genius brain.

"Will is a paramedic, he can judge if it's a good idea to go to the ER."

"I don't want to..." Bones rolled onto her back and then started to push herself to a sit. "I don't want to go to hospital."

"We'll let the paramedic look you over, okay?" Booth said. He'd not been too keen on the idea of the boyfriend, but if she was going to be stubborn, he'd take whatever medical care he could get.

"Where do I climb in?" he asked.

Jeannie gave Brennan an assessing look.

"Wait a moment. I want to tow the hobie - can you help right it?"

"You're going to waste time on that while she's hurt?" he knew he sounded incredulous. Which was probably the better outcome, as the other option was furious.

"I'm not leaving it here to drift into the shipping lane. Be done in three minutes."

He heaved himself up a little so he could look at Brennan. She was half sitting up against the side of the boat. Her eyes didn't have her usual sharpness, but the breathless terror abated a little. She was okay. As okay as one could be after being launched through the air and bashed against the boom of a sailing boat.

He didn't like the idea of delay at all, but Jeannie was determined about this, and he had to admit she had a point about the danger of leaving it.

"Right, what do I do?"

"Climb on the glider and pull on the righting line like you practised a few weeks ago."

"Can I right it on my own?"

"I'm going to give the masthead a lift to help you."

He reluctantly let go of the side of the boat and swam the few metres to the catamaran. Strange to see it on its side, one glider high in the air. All wrong. Hard to believe that just minutes ago he'd been on that thing, feeling like he was flying.

He climbed on the lower glider and reached for the lines. Through the netting he saw how she manoeuvred the RIB to the top of the mast, let the engine idle, and leant out the side to grab the masthead.

"OK, ready?"

"Yes!" he called back.

"On three, then. One - two - THREE!"

He put his full weight on the line. For a moment it seemed like nothing moved, but then the balance started shifting, and he heard the water clatter off the sail as it lifted out of the water. He jumped between the gliders as the higher one came thundering down over him, and grabbed on to the netting from underneath to steady the boat.

"Nice!" Jeannie steered the RIB next to it, anchoring the two boats together with a quick tie, and boarded the catamaran.

She gave Booth a hand up when he climbed up onto the catamaran, and he stepped over into the RIB, immediately going to his partner. Bones looked a little dazed, but she met him with a game little smile.

"I'm okay.. don't look so worried," she admonished gently. "Always knew this could happen."

"What, the flying through the air?" He'd known they could capsize, but this hadn't been a capsize, this had been a _crash_.

"A pitchpole is kind of like a cartwheel," she said. "We were going really fast, and then one of the gliders dug into the water slightly too deep, and we went..."

"Ass over teakettle?" he suggested. She grinned. Not how she would have put it.

"There was a slight bow wave from the freighter that passed in the distance," Jeannie said over her shoulder while she quickly lowered and packed up the sails of the catamaran. "Your starboard glider smacked into it, and off you went."

She stepped back into the RIB, bringing a line with her from the cat, and tied it off at the back of the RIB. Disconnected the lines holding the boats side to side, used the net to help the dog back in the boat, and pushed the engine into a moderate pace.

Booth looked at the shore impatiently, not happy with the speed, but she couldn't exactly pull open the throttle while towing a boat. Shoving back his impatience, he turned his attention back to Bones, tracing gentle fingertips over her scalp.

"Are you hurt anywhere else?"

"My shoulder hurts, but I think the vest caught the brunt of the impact." she sounded better already, more like herself. "It'll probably be fine in time for next week's lesson."

Yes, definitely like herself.

"You wanna go back out there?" he couldn't feel enthusiastic about it.

"You don't?"

He said nothing.

"You seemed to be having a good time..."

"Yeah, well, that was right up till the point where you were floating face-down in the water," he said, knowing he sounded snappish. Instead of starting in on the invalidity of that argument, she just reached up to cover his hand with her own.

"All right, can you talk me through what happened?"

"YOU are a paramedic?" Booth gave the man a disdainful look. His brown, sun-bleached dreadlocks had been knotted up on the back of his head, and his voice and manner suggested that he should be talking about the perfect wave, not taking his partner's pulse.

"Not working as one these days, but yeah. Why?"

Booth couldn't think of an answer that he was willing to say out loud, so said nothing. Bones was sitting on a chair inside the cantina, and Will began his examination with some questions. Despite not looking the part, Will seemed to know what he was doing, so Booth took a step back, trying to contain his worry and impatience.

Jeannie was standing in the doorway, looking rather pale, he thought. She'd seemed so calm and matter-of-fact out on the water, he was surprised to realise that she was worried.

"Hey. You okay?"

She gave a wry little chuckle.

"I should be asking you that."

He shrugged more nonchalantly than he felt.

"You were cool as a cucumber out there."

"Yeah, well, I have yet to find a situation where it helps when the instructor panics. Doesn't mean I won't have a few breathless moments tonight..."

They were both silent for a long moment, watching her boyfriend shine a light in Bones' eyes.

"I should never have let you guys stay on that course, it was going far too fast for your experience... but you were enjoying it so much."

They had been, he couldn't deny that.

"Could we have stopped it happening?"

"Hard to say. At that that speed.. it could have probably been a lot less dramatic though, if you'd had enough time to ease off the sails."

He could see that something was bothering her about this, and like a hound on a scent, kept after it.

"And how would we have had enough time? Could we have seen the wave?"

"Maybe... but it's my job to spot these things. It was hard to see, and-" she glanced at Bones, who was answering a question from Will.

"And?" he insisted. He knew he was interrogating her, and he felt a glimmer of shame about pressing this softspoken girl like she was a murder suspect, but it didn't stop him.

"-and I was distracted."

"Distracted by what?"

He hadn't noticed that he'd stepped closer to her until he heard her sharp intake of breath.

_Shit. I'm crowd__ing her. Stop interrogating her, man._

The dog padded up and butted its head under her hand, and he took a measured step back, getting himself back under control.

Again a glance at Bones.

"I was making photos of you two," she finally said, sounding a bit embarrassed. "It seemed like the sort of moment that needed to be a photo."

Thinking back, he had to agree. It'd been a moment for high definition video. For ingraining into memory for the rest of his life.

"Do we get to see the photos?" he said with a small grin.

Her relief at this change of tone was clear in her eyes, and he shoved away the twitch of shame. He didn't like to think of himself as someone who intimidated people to get what he wanted. At least, not outside of the job.

"Of course. I can email them to you, if you like. Or.. have prints next week? If you're coming back, that is."

He looked at Bones.

"...quite extraordinary, almost skimming the water like Shearwaters do." She sounded a little... off, he thought. Not as sharp and precise as he was used to.

"Shearwaters - I like that... It _is_ like that, isn't it?" Will grinned. "All right, I'm done. Take it easy with your shoulder, but that should be fine with some rest. Don't be on your own for the next 24 hours - you do have a mild concussion, so I'd like someone to be with you, and to wake you up about every hour tonight."

"Would a... would an alarm do?"

"If you did worsen it'd be less use than a sail on a submarine."

"I'll stay with you," Booth said, stepping forward. She gave him a look he couldn't quite place.

_Did you not ask because you don't want to impose or because it's too intimate?_ he wondered.

"I know the concussion protocol," he said to Will. He'd been through this twice with his rambunctious son.

The younger man nodded. "Works for me. It's just the first night that's the real danger."

He helped her up, noting that she was swaying a little. Then realised they were both still in wetsuits.

"We... need to change. Can you manage on your own?"

"Um... I think so..."

That didn't sound convincing, and he panicked a little. Taking care of her was something he was happy - more than happy - to do. Undressing her as part of that care however, that was definitely outside of the comfort zone they'd built.

"I'll help you get out of the wetsuit," Jeannie offered, and he shot her a grateful look. "It can be a bit of a struggle if your shoulder hurts."

"Okay..."

As the two women went off to the changing room Will gave him an odd look.

"We're not... _together_," he heard himself explain, for no reason he could phantom. "We're work partners."

"It's okay man," the younger man said, packing up his medical bag. "None of my business."

"Right."

She was quiet in the car. It wasn't surprising, but it worried him nonetheless. After twenty minutes of silence and short answers, he reached out to take her hand, needing the contact to reassure him. She was okay. Well, maybe not completely, but she was going to be. He could forget about seeing the back of her head, surrounded by floating strands of hair, any time now.

"I'm sorry..."

"_What_?"

"For.. for-" she made a gesture into the air with her free hand, and trailed to a halt.

_Is she trying to apologise for getting hurt? For needing to be taken care of?_

"Look, Bones... I enjoyed the sailing very much. I only had a minor apoplexy when you got hurt, and I'm happy to take care of you. Does that cover it?"

"An apoplexy is.. medically improbable, it's not a real medical term, and from your current state of health it seems unlikely-" she saw his grin. "I- you... it kind of does."

"Good."

She stayed in the car while he did a quick supply run to his apartment and the shop. It was ten minutes at most, but when he returned she was curled up sideways in her seat, head sagged forward. The abject terror he'd felt out on the water, seeing her floating face-down, sprang back into his throat. He yanked open the car door, dumping the bags on the driver seat floor.

"Bones!"

He was on the driver seat on his knees, reaching forward, catching himself just before he shook her.

"Bones?" he stroked her hair out of her face, some of the strands still damp, and touched her cheek. "Bones, wake up, you're freaking me out."

"...sorry..." Her eyes drifted open, pale blue and unfocused.

"What day is it?"

"Saturday, last I checked."

"Okay. Okay." He felt his rampaging pulse settle down. She was okay. Just snoozed off. "I'll get you home. Don't do anything freaky like suddenly going to sleep. It's not good for my mental health."

"How can my sleep habits have influence on-" it was actually somewhat comforting that she reacted in her customary manner. It would have worried him more if she'd let it slide by. But still, did she truly not get it? He cut her a look.

_Because I __love__ you, you stubborn, oblivious, rational, fragile, amazing, tough, gorgeous woman, and I'm going to have enough nightmares about seeing you in the water like that. _

"Oh."

_tbc_


	6. In The Air Now

**In The Air Now**

"Are you hungry?" he asked when he lead her into her apartment. She was leaning against him a little for balance, but she wasn't too unsteady on her feet.

"I... uh... yes, I think so," she said after some serious consideration.

"Okay. Bachelor pasta it is." he went into the kitchen to put the groceries on the counter.

"Bachelor pasta?" she'd trailed after him.

"That's what pops used to call it," he grinned. "You make a runny sauce, then dump in the pasta to absorb the extra liquid. It's all about minimal dishwashing."

"What...what kind of pasta did you get?"

He pulled the bag of macaroni from the paper bag.

"Oh. I don't really like macaroni... can you..." she turned away to stare at her kitchen cupboards. Pulled one open after a few long seconds, and took out a jar of shell pasta. "Could you use this instead?"

"Is that some special organic pasta or something? Look, I even got you the integrale version. Tastes the same as your stuff.."

"It's just that... I..." she trailed to a halt, and he looked at her, intrigued. This was irrational, and she was clearly aware. That was always interesting.

She took a deep breath, not meeting his eyes. "When we were small, Russ told me that macaroni is made from- from dried maggots. I've never been able to... stomach it after that."

He held back his laughter.

"That's silly, isn't it? It's just something about the texture..."

"Nah, not silly at all. In fact, I don't feel much like macaroni now either," he grinned. "Shell pasta it is, then," he dumped the macaroni back into the paper grocery bag.

Her smile said that she knew he was humouring her, but was grateful nonetheless. She balanced herself with a hand on his shoulder as she moved past him in the narrow kitchen, and he felt his stomach clench a little at that familiar gesture.

"Feel free to raid the kitchen - there's some smoked bacon in the fridge I think. I'm going to change..."

"Bacon? I thought you were vegetarian."

"I am, except for that stuff."

"Look, Bones?" she halted in the kitchen threshold. "Please don't lock any doors, okay? I'll knock before entering, and only come in if you don't answer, I promise."

"That seems like a sensible precaution. All right."

The smoked bacon he found in the fridge made him smile. Meat, yes, but organically raised free-range meat. Judging by the wrapper she'd bought it straight from the farm the pigs were raised on. It tasted amazing.

Food was well underway when he wondered what was keeping her. He'd heard the shower turn off twenty minutes before - had she fallen asleep? Worse, collapsed?

_Gotta stop thinking like that. She's okay._

_Better go check on her all the same._

"Bones? Are you okay?" the door of the bedroom was ajar. "Bones? Can I come in?"

"Yeah..."

She sounded vague and distracted. Walking in, he found her standing in front of the open closet, wrapped in a fluffy terry bathrobe. She had a look of dumbfounded confusion on her face.

"I know that look," he grinned.

"...what..?"

"Hell, I've _worn_ that look. Too many choices, right?"

She didn't react, staring at the neatly stacked piles of clothing as if transfixed. He remembered doing something similar once while on painkillers for his back - he'd found himself back in an isle of the grocery store, staring at the cereals.

He spotted the section with sport clothes, and grabbed a pair of yoga pants, a well-worn T-shirt and a soft, hooded sweatshirt - a memento of a forensic anthropology student field trip. Smiled at the idea that she'd once done something so ordinary as that.

"Here. Food'll be ready in about ten."

"...thanks..."

"This is really nice - thank you, Booth."

She was sitting curled up on the sofa, back against the arm. She'd put on the clothes that he'd picked and tied her hair back, and he couldn't hide his grin at how young she looked, the serious, self-possessed scientist demeanour taking a backseat to the relaxed, softer persona, almost studentlike in these clothes with her plate on her lap. He didn't get to meet this Brennan as much as he liked. _Seen her a lot more since the sailing lessons started though._

"Don't mention it."

"You sure you don't want a beer?"

"Bones, I have to be able to drive if you become unwell."

"Oh. yes. Though I feel fine..."

"You also spent ten minutes staring into your closet because you got frozen by too many choices."

"Point."

"So we'll just take this seriously, okay? I'll sleep on the couch, wake you about every hour for a nice little quiz... make sure that whole slipping-into-a-coma scenario doesn't play out."

"Okay..."

He'd expected more of a fight, but she'd put down her plate, and her eyes were getting more unfocused.

"Do you have a headache?"

"A little... mostly I'm just..." she made a vague gesture in the air and let her hand drop back into her lap.

_Fading. And fast._ And for her to even admit to a headache... she wasn't good at showing what she thought was weakness.

"Right, well, let's get you to bed then."

He arranged her arm across his shoulders and helped her to her feet, his arm firmly around her waist. She swayed dangerously, and he pulled her against his side, hip against hip. Felt a flash of shame at just how much he wanted to walk like that with her, arms around eachother. Walking as a couple.

A while later he was sitting on the couch, trying to concentrate on the Stephen King novel he'd taken from her extensive collection of thriller, crime and mystery books. He was far more used to watching television in the evenings, or occasionally kicking around online - not that he would have fared better with either of those activities now.

She'd curled up on her side and sunk into sleep in a manner of seconds, and he could not shake the worry about that. He knew she was one of life's insomniacs and that she rarely fell asleep within an hour of going to bed - he couldn't count the number of times she'd told him about some idea that had come to her because she couldn't sleep. That she should sink away so easily now...

He'd left the door to the bedroom open, so it was easy to walk to the threshold and look in on her, but it wasn't enough, not really. All he could see was that she was still there, and disappearing physically wasn't the worry. To see that she was still breathing he had to go right up to the bed, quiet as only years of training could teach. Watch her for a while. Reassure himself with the soft sounds of her breathing and the rise and fall of her chest. Return just as quietly to the living and his book. Read half a page. Repeat.

_Is it time to wake her yet? No, twenty more minutes. God, this is going to be a very long night._

"Bones... Temperance?"

He felt his heart beating loudly in his chest for the agonisingly long seconds it took her to surface.

"...Booth?" she didn't open her eyes.

"What day is it?"

"Still saturday... right?"

"What did we do today?"

She smiled in the gloom. "Sailing... flying like Shearwater..."

"And then?"

"I remember that we... crashed... Booth," she mumbled. "I just like the other part.. better."

_That's my Bones. _

He leant forward and caught himself just before pressing a kiss to those inviting, sleep-pliant lips.

_Would you do that if she was well? Would she let you? Stealing intimacy because she's vulnerable is kind of a __douche move, man. _

"Sleep well," he whispered instead.

"Mmm.."

He walked back out with his head full of turmoil. God, he loved her. So much that sometimes it seemed like a physical pain. _Patience_. He needed to have the patience to let her make the choices, if she was going to make them. Anything less... like kissing her because she was half unconscious and wouldn't stop him... was just taking advantage, and that wasn't Seeley Booth.

He smiled at the memory of standing in a hospital room, watching her brother hug his adopted daughter, and being completely blindsided by her kiss on his cheek. Such a simple thing, and it had utterly derailed him. They would kiss, really kiss not long after, courtesy of Carolyn and her mistletoe, but nice - and weird - as that had been he remembered the moment in the hospital room with more warmth. Nobody had forced her hand. She hadn't analysed and rationalised it to death. She just acted, from the heart, and it had blown his mind.

Between the hourly alarm and his concern for her, sleep wasn't going to happen. At all. She'd turned around in her sleep, facing the middle of the bed now. He sat down on the far edge, leaning toward her a little.

"Temperance... what day is it?"

"Can't you look on the calendar?" she complained sleepily. He chuckled.

"Nope. You tell me."

"It was.. saturday. Is this a trap question-is it sunday now..?"

"Saturday still, eleven o'clock."

"Okay.."

"What was the last case we worked on together?"

"Remains found in the... um.. Mason Neck state park.."

"Cause of death?"

"Blunt force trauma... Toblerone bar."

They shared a sleepy chuckle. It had been a weird case, and he'd had to really work to keep a serious FBI-standard-issue expression every time the murder weapon had come up.

"Bones?"

"...quiz still not over?"

"You got an A." _Of course you did._ "Would you mind if I stayed here, so I don't have to keep getting up?"

"Mmm. 's fine..."

_Oh God_. He hadn't actually thought beyond asking. He sat frozen for a moment, watching her curl around the pillow she was hugging against her stomach. Finally pulled his socked feet onto the bed and cautiously stretched out, keeping close to the edge.

"I'll just... be over here. On top of the covers. Fully dressed." He felt like Michelle's boyfriend now. _A movie. Honestly. Just a movie._

"Booth.. I _trust_ you." She chided sleepily.

_She does. Christ, she really does._ Not just about cases. Not just about her safety. Not just about friendship. About _everything_. It was both awe-inspiring and terrifying.

It wasn't about letting a man into her bedroom, he knew she wasn't shy about that. As long as they hadn't expected much more than the physical, she'd been comfortable. He'd seen how hard she'd shoved at Sully when it went beyond that.

It was about letting _him_ in there, because he _did_ expect more than the physical. It could never be just physical with her. He wanted her, gorgeous body, well-shielded soul and amazing, brilliant mind. All of her, and nothing less, and she knew it.

Which was why he'd been so thrilled when she'd offered to share a part of herself he hadn't really experienced much before. The Temperance Brennan who went sailing with him, who had flung her heart and her voice out into the wind... he was fairly sure - and more than a touch smug about it - that Sully had never met _her_.

He knew she felt she was protecting him, and perhaps she was, by keeping him at the distance she felt comfortable with, instead of letting him get closer and then pushing him away when it got to be too much. Was this progress?

_I need to stop thinking about this in military terms. Progress and advancing... before I know it I'll be __making a tactical plan and trying to hold ground. _

It wasn't a battle. If anything was going to happen between them, if they were have to have a real relationship, if it was going to be as good as he knew it could be... it couldn't be because he'd worn away her resistance. It couldn't be because he'd gained ground and then refused to retreat. She had to want him there, every moment. He had to stop pushing and let her take some of the steps. She'd already taken such a big one by inviting him to learn sailing with her.

She shifted, looking warm and snug. He'd be boiling under that thick duvet, but she seemed comfortable all nestled in like it was a cocoon. Cute. Not a word he was used to applying to her. He grinned, thinking about how she'd react if he called her cute.

She moved her arms, wrapping one closer around the pillow - he felt vaguely envious - and stretching one out in front of her. It reached across the bed, almost touching his shoulder.

_She's asleep, it doesn't mean anything_, he told himself. After a moment of debate, he reached out to close the distance, loosely curling his fingers around her wrist.

_It's just so I can feel her pulse_. Lulled by the steady, comforting thud against his hand, he drifted off.

He shocked awake when his watch beeped, surprised he'd fallen asleep so quickly and deeply. Waking up next to her, seeing her next to him when he opened his eyes, blew his mind. She'd shifted a little closer to him in her sleep, facing him, her one hand still in his loose grasp, the other laid against the back of his hand. Entwining them.

_She's asleep, it doesn't mean anything__. _

_Gods, I love her. _

He leant up on his free arm to move a little closer.

"Bones... Bones, wake up please.."

"Mmh?" she seemed so comfortable that he wished he did not have to drag her from the depths of sleep.

"Do you-" _do you know I'm in love with you?_ "-do you remember the name of Jeannie's dog?" he said instead, holding back the words, like before, like always.

"Teff," she mumbled. "..are you sleeping at all?"

"Just got almost an hour," he said softly.

"Mmm.. good." She let out a long sigh of utter comfort, and when she moved her hands a little she noticed she was holding on to him. He found himself holding his breath while she seemed to debate if to remove her hands or not, perhaps thought about who was holding whom. After a long moment her eyes drifted shut again, hands still there, and he took a deep breath.

_Oh, you're killing me, Bones_. He didn't think it was possibly to want her more than he did right now.

He slept on and off, now slumbering, now listening to her quiet breathing. It was equal parts reassuring himself about her wellbeing and basking in her presence.

She stretched, unselfconsciously sensual, and he looked away, not wanting her to see his reaction. He'd signed his own death warrant on that one. He'd been attracted to her from the start, but it had been an abstract acknowledgement that she was beautiful. An appreciation of her blue, blue eyes, beautiful features, her amazing figure. It had struck him now and then, especially in her less self-conscious moments, but it had been easily pushed to the background of his mind.

Not since Las Vegas._ 'You can be the teacher... you know, the hot one who makes all the boys crazy'_ hadn't been something from his imagination. Pre-teen Seeley and his obsession with Miss Brooker bore witness to that. And ever since that Vegas job, aided by _that_ dress, his treacherous mind had firmly linked that feverish mixture of first love and lust to Doctor Temperance Brennan, bringing it to the forefront of his mind with perverse regularity. In fact, pretty much every time she lectured him on some obscure scientific detail.

It had taken him a while to figure out why, instead of being annoyed by her overbearing moments, he got _hot_. And hard. And very, _very_ frustrated.

He'd never stood a chance.

He turned his back to her and got off the bed, heading into the bathroom. He needed a moment to compose himself. He felt raw from the night, from how thin the dividing line between his dream and reality had seemed, in the dark of her bedroom. To now go from being in the same bed with her, feeling closer to her than he ever had, to straight back to being friends and colleagues...

_We have never been more. That was my dream__, not reality_. Yet the night had felt tantalisingly like he knew a relationship with her could be.

She was dressed in sweats by the time he got out of the bathroom.

"How do you feel?"

"I have a slight headache," she said, turning to him. "But I'm feeling all right. And you?"

"I'm fine." _Except that I really, desperately want to kiss you._

"Do you want breakfast?"

_Oh God, this almost feels like after a one night stand. Say something. Don't make this awkward_.

Did she want him to leave? He knew she liked her own space. She'd welcomed him in for the night only out of necessity. Now that the danger of her injury was gone, perhaps she wanted her own space back.

"It's okay, I need to be on my way," he said, sitting down on the couch to put on his shoes. Suddenly anxious to leave, make the awkwardness stop. The return of reality after the night made him feel a little breathless. It felt like waking up after his coma and finding out he had dreamed, all over again. He suddenly wanted to be alone.

"Oh. All right."

Her tone made him look up. He'd heard that before. It was the sound of Brennan forcefully shoving her feelings out of the way, letting the rational scientist take over.

He tried to find something to say, something to change this sudden distance, but she'd already turned away. He imagined he could see the hurt in the stance of her shoulders.

TBC... maybe

* * *

_OK, I apologise for leaving it here. These last two chapters I churned out somewhere at the start at the summer when I was still invested in Bones and pretty pissed off with the writers. I've been taking a break from the fandom and now I've moved on to different pastures, at least for the moment. I will probably __start watching Bones again at some point, and I may even continue this, but for now this is as far as I go. Sorry!_


End file.
